Of Freaks and Men (1998) | dir. Alexei Balabanov
Cinematography by Sergey Astakhov
"Of Freaks and Men" is both a dark gem and a perplexing marketing conundrum. Pic will get fest kudos, but it's too much ribald fun for "serious"art film lovers and too offbeat in its birth-of-Russian-porno subject matter and stylized cinematography to catch any significant arthouse B.O. Its outside chance of success rests upon savvy exploitation of its undeniable qualities and quirky period parlor hijinx.
References for this picture, shot almost entirely in a tinted-sepia re-creation of period daguerreotypes, are tough to find, but one could look to David Lynch’s penchant for dwarves and Canadian cult auteur Guy Maddin’s oddball musings. Pic also bears strong stylistic resemblance to Steven Soderbergh’s ill-fated B&W “Kafka.” But “Freaks” contrasts strongly with all of the above in its fidelity to its sympathetic characters and the central premise that sex is the sinister undoing of both the innocent and the evil...
Thought-provoking, funny, disturbing and utterly involving, “Freaks” marks a terrific follow-up to Balabanov’s award-winning ’97 Russian box office hit, “Brother.” Cinematographer Sergei Astakhov’s carefully modulated and composed sepia-tone images are both disconcerting and hypnotically mood-enhancing. While the distancing effect may be counterproductive to the drama, it does lend an aura of the faded, forlorn days when the combination of sex and photography was new.
Always be a poet, even in prose.
Charles Baudelaire (via thequotejournals)
“I understood the necessity of beauty, of an atmosphere of silence, of a void even in which the imagination might blossom.”
— Meena Alexander, from “Fault Lines,” originally published c. 1993 (via violentwavesofemotion)
This is the secret of the stars, I tell myself. In the end, we are alone. No matter how close you seem, no one else can touch you.
Beth Revis, Across the Universe (via books-n-quotes)
Amélie | dir. Jean-Pierre Jeunet | 2001
DoP: Bruno Delbonnel
Kaidan aka Kwaidan (1964)
Director: Masaki Kobayashi Cinematography by Yoshio Miyajima
The Virgin Suicides (1999) | dir. Sofia Coppola | USA
Cinematography by Edward Lachman
The Godfather (1972)
Director: Francis Ford Coppola DoP: Gordon Willis
‘I believe in America’
And later when we got into the car, he took a turn down a street that I was pretty sure was a dead end. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know,’ he said ‘just driving.’ ‘But this road doesn’t go anywhere,’ I told him. ‘That doesn’t matter.’ ‘What does?’ I asked, after a little while. ‘Just that we’re on it, dude.’
Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero (via quotespile)
Hansel and Gretel (2007) | dir. Pil-sung Yim | South Korea
Withnail & I (1987) | dir. Bruce Robinson
The film is a testament to the potency and sadness of friendship and the compromises required for the transition from adolescence to adulthood.
“To pronounce oneself immune to the charms of Withnail & I is to declare oneself a philistine, a Puritan and a snob.” - Kevin Jackson, 2004
At the end of Bruce Robinson’s much-loved journey through the dying months of the 1960s, Withnail (Richard E. Grant) walks Marwood ( Paul McGann ) through Regent’s Park on the way to the station. As his friend vanishes from his life, Withnail stands in the rain and quotes one of Hamlet’s soliloquies to the watching wolves.
Set at the fag-end of the 1960s, Robinson’s comedy of bad manners sees two struggling twentysomething actors – flamboyant, melancholic narcissist Withnail (Richard E. Grant) and his unnamed, unassuming friend (Paul McGann) – pursue booze, recreation, work and the meaning of life in Camden Town and the Lake District. Based on Robinson’s own experiences, this labour of love achieved cult status on the strength of its endlessly quotable dialogue and brilliantly eccentric performances (notably Richard Griffiths’ Uncle Monty and Ralph Brown’s Danny the dealer). The beautifully sodden photography and a cannily evocative pop soundtrack help fix the mood. The script references Bruce Robinson’s own acting work in Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet (1968).